"Brian Herbert & Kevin J. Anderson - Dune 09 - House Corrino" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

and guards up in the cliffs. Such minor ifenses presented no obstacle to the Fremen, who long ago
had built nu-erous shafts and entrances into the mountain grottoes. Secret ways ...

Stilgar found a split in the trail and followed the faint path, searching r the hidden opening into
Sietch Hadith. In low light he saw a patch of rkness beneath an overhang. Dropping to all fours, he
reached into the rkness and located the expected opening, cool and moist, without a orseal.
Wasteful.

No bright light, no sign of guards. Crawling inside the hole, he etched a leg down and located a
rough ledge, where he rested his boot, ith his other foot he found a second ledge, and below that
another. Steps ng down. Ahead, he discerned low yellow light where the tunnel sloped the right.
Stilgar backed up and raised a hand, summoning the others to low.

On the floor at the base of the rough steps he noticed an old serving vl. Tugging off his nose plugs,
he smelled raw meat. Bait for small preda-5? An animal trap? He froze, looking for sensors. Had he
already tripped lent alarm? He heard footsteps ahead, and a drunken voice. "Got an-er one. Let's
blow it to kulon-hell."

Stilgar and two Fremen darted into a side tunnel and drew their milky iknives. Maula pistols would
be far too noisy in these enclosed spaces, ten a pair of Harkonnen guards blundered past them,
reeking of spice r, Stilgar and his comrade Turok leaped out and grabbed them from be-i

Before the hapless men could cry out, the Fremen slit their throats, i slapped spongepads over the
wounds to absorb the precious blood. In efficient blur of motion, Fremen removed hand weapons
from the still' ching guards. Stilgar seized a lasrifle for himself and passed one to )k.

Dim military glowglobes floated in ceiling recesses, casting low light, razzia band continued down
the passageway, toward the heart of the

ancient sietch. When the passage skirted a conveyor system used for the transportation of materials
in and out of the secret chamber, he detected the cinnamon odor of melange, which grew stronger
as the group went deeper. Here, the ceiling glowglobes were tuned to pale orange instead of

yellow.

Stilgar's troop murmured at the sight of human skulls and rotting bodies, propped against the sides
of the corridor, carelessly displayed trophies. Rage suffused him. These might have been Fremen
prisoners or villagers, taken by the Harkonnens for sport. At his side, Turok glanced around,
searching for another enemy he might kill.
Cautiously, Stilgar led the way forward and began to hear voices and clanging noises. They came to
an alcove rimmed with a low stone railing that overlooked an underground grotto. Stilgar imagined
the thousands of desert people who must have thronged into this vast cavern long ago, before the
Harkonnens, before the Emperor . . . before the spice melange had become the most valuable
substance in the universe.

At the center of the grotto rose an octagonal structure, dark blue and silver, surrounded by ramps.
Smaller matching structures were arranged around it. One was under construction; plasmetal parts
lay strewn about, with seven laborers hard at work.

Slipping back into shadows, the raiders crept down shallow stairs to the grotto floor. Turok and the